Breaking Barriers
by CrazyIndigoChild
Summary: **Following The Good Doctor** A mass casualty incident has doctors Munkustrap and Mistoffelees rushing to the aid of dozens of battered kittens. But the danger isn't over yet and the clock is ticking against both patient and doctor. Warnings are inside.
1. Chapter 1

IT'S SEQUEL TIME!

I've gotten reviews and messages about how "What in the hey happened to Misto?" so I followed it up with another story! Please be advised of the

 _ **WARNINGS**_

 _-Some graphic material around injury and death, a lot of which includes kittens.  
-Light gore  
-Swearing (But I know you all do it)  
-Suggestions of HOMOSEXUAL (the best kind) SEX and maybe a gratuitous scene if you ask nicely enough._

Aside from that I welcome you back and hope you all enjoy!

* * *

"Good morning!"

Peeking out from the best sleep he'd had in ages, in the most comfortable bed he'd slept in in ages, Mistoffelees stretched out on his stomach. With his face buried in his pillow he could only feel the bed dimple beside him. "I made you breakfast." Warm, minty breath fanned his ears and they were given soft nips.

"Did you?" Sleep, that slippery bugger, escaped him. No matter how deep he dug into Munkustrap's enormous and dauntingly unfamiliar bed he would never find it. Though considering the alternative, a warm, fluffy housecoat-clad body pressed against him and handsome company, being awake wasn't the worst thing in the world. Even if the aforementioned housecoat was the most heinous shade of orange he'd ever had the misfortune of seeing. "I'm warning you: if you feed me there's a chance I might never leave."

"Like a stray," Munkustrap noted cheekily, paws trailing over the tux's shoulders and peeling the blankets back. "Except you know not to pee on my carpet. And sing along to the ads on TV."

Rolling over, Mistoffelees hooked his arm around the tabby's neck and pulled him down onto the bed. "I would hope there'd be more benefits to having me around."

Munkustrap rolled them over with a low purr, leaning in a little too close for simply pleasant 'morning after' conversation. "Mm, yes… many," he said between kisses. Pulling away—and away from the very real threat of making them both late for work—he nodded to the nightside table. "Better get a start on that. We've only an hour and a half."

"Just wait until you see what I can do with twenty— pancakes!"

Eyes the size of two small planets, Mistoffelees shovelled an even bigger bite into his mouth. "While you eat I'm going to shower; unlike you I have to put effort into looking so handsome."

Through sticky lips the puffy-cheeked tom snorted. As an afterthought he covered his mouth with his hand to contain the syrup massacre that was his breakfast. "I dare you to tell that to any of the nurses. Aren't you going to have any?"

Off went the housecoat and Mistoffelees almost choked on his second bite. He wasn't sure whether he should look away while a naked Munkustrap reached into the linen closet for a towel... but he didn't. "I already ate."

"I should shower too," he mumbled to himself, downing the glass of orange juice he found nearby. If the juice was fresh-pressed he might have to just walk out then and there, buy a ring, and marry the damn cat.

Oh good, it's from concentrate.

"Of course!" Munkustrap's voice echoed from the bathroom and it's spotless gleaming white tiles. Most of Mistoffelees' building was done in the 60s which meant bright yellow toilets and time stained 'off-white' tiles. These were the real deal. The showerhead sang his name.

A moment later Munkustrap's head poked out. His grin spelt trouble. The good kind of trouble. "As a good host I should let you shower first."

"You should."

"But then I'd have to show you how everything works."

Swallowing thick, Mistoffelees licked at a bead of syrup from the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit of a slow learner."

"And we'd most definitely be late for work…"

Everlasting. That tom knew exactly what he was doing.

Absolutely it was most definitely working.

No sooner had the tabby taken his beguiling smile and bedroom eyes into the shower Mistoffelees gulped down his mouthful- took another two bites for the road- and scampered his hide to the bathroom.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Good morning!" Glancing up from his second cup of coffee Alonzo would find Mistoffelees' too eager smile as he peeked overhead to look at the patient board. So eager and ready to start the day, in fact, that he was practically bouncing as he noted the late-night asthma attack and the high fever awaiting him in the paediatric beds.

Slurping from his milk carton the tux unzipped his jacket with a flourish and sauntered back to the staff room. "Happy Monday to me."

Alonzo watched him over the rim of his cup as he sat quietly behind the desk. What the heck had gotten into him that morning? A quick glance at his watch and… "Sorry I'm late!"

"Munkustrap!" Alonzo cheered, toasting the dishevelled and flustered tom, who also stopped to take a look at their leftover patients from the night before. "I hope you know it's hospital policy that all fraternizing doctors have to clock in with a minimum of eight minutes apart. There was a memo about it."

Looking at him through slotted eyes, Munkustrap glanced around the admin area. For deniability, of course, he picked up the first chart and pretended to inspect the oozing boil that just couldn't wait for the day staff. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"When you go in can you make sure Mistoffelees rolls up the scrub pants you lent him? It's a real tripping hazard and I'm—"

Munkustrap slapped his paws over his ears and sped after the tux; "La la la laaaaa, not hearing you!"

A short time later and Mistoffelees was the first to emerge from the staff lounge, grinning like a madman with his scrubs rolled up to his ankles.

Exactly eight minutes after that Munkustrap emerged and slumped down into the seat beside the ever-smug Alonzo.

"Are we gonna talk about it?"

One quick spin in the office chair confirmed they were entirely alone—well, if one didn't count the passed out college tom snoring off a rough night a few feet away. "… Later."

.

.

.

"Look, it's a swan!"

Origami was definitely a lot harder than it looked. Kitten origami—in which one crushes and crumples up pieces of paper into semi-animal shapes—was more Mistoffelees' speed. With pride he held up his own ball of blue paper. "I made a bear."

The kittens in the beds on either side of him giggled. "That's not a bear, Dr. Misto."

"That's because you're looking at it from the back, Theo. From here it's a bear."

Theo, a massive orange mass of static and boogers, had been admitted for a fever early in the morning. He was responding well to the medication… not to the choice of entertainment so much. Luckily Mistoffelees only had one more blood culture to wait on before discharging him.

"I want to go home, this mask smells funny," whined the other kit, Miles, from beneath his nebulizer. For the most part he was disinterested in anything that wasn't Star Wars, and frequently expressed his adamant hatred of all things grape flavoured.

Mistoffelees reached over and readjusted the mask over the kit's face. "I know it does, but you're almost done soon and your mum will be able to take you home. Then you can go to school—"

"Nooo! I'm too sick for school."

"I don't know, Miles. You sound pretty healthy to me."

Theo, who was undoubtedly staying home today, jabbed his tongue out across the way. The doctor ignored the two as he glanced at his watch—did he really spend that much time wasting paper?!

After excusing himself he wandered out of the adjoining room and into the main ER floor. In the admin area Munkustrap was rolling and spinning around in the office chair, humming quietly as he stabbed at the screen of his smartphone. "Is it really that dead?"

"If only," grumbled the tabby, closing the game. "Dead would be interesting. Dead would mean that someone had actually come in and I was forced to get my arse out of this chair. Say cheese."

He'd only a quick second, but Mistoffelees screwed his eyes shut and stuck his tongue out before the shutter went off. It had been a sudden new hobby of Munkustrap's, to take pictures like he was documenting for the National Geographic. "Stunning. Very photogenic."

"I do try—oh, hi Skimble!"

With a violent jerk Munkustrap nearly dropped his phone, scrambling to shove it in his pocket before peeking over the back of the office chair. To his astounding luck Skimbleshanks wasn't starting for another six hours.

"You're a cruel tom."

Mistoffelees made to speak when the quick blips of the radio sounded off on the desk behind Munkustrap. Looked like the tabby would have no more reason to complain; he picked up the microphone and picked up the line, "Montfort Trauma."

Crackles and buzzing came through, the feedback from the sirens echoing along the line. "Montfort Trauma, this is unit 94 responding to a mass casualty incident. A school bus…" there was a dip in the connection, but enough had come through to attract nearby nurses and students from the depths of boredom. Radio call-ins meant trouble, and 'mass casualty' had a cold sweat breaking across the back of his neck. Munkustrap adjusted the station and the voice cut back in. "…requesting doctors. How many can you take?"

All eyes fell to Mistoffelees: the only paediatrician on duty. If there were many critically injured he'd have to spread himself thin between the trauma rooms, though Alonzo and Munkustrap wouldn't need much supervision. "We can take five critical, ten non-life threatening to start. We'll need to call Jemima in."

"And Skimbleshanks," Alonzo added, having drifted over with the crowd. Department phone already cradled in his paw. "Not to mention all those nurses we sent home."

Munkustrap relayed the information to the paramedics and scribbled down the fuzzy details. "We're sending two doctors your way."

Two. Any going bets on who those two would be? Munkustrap signed off and plucked the MCI binder from the shelf: it would have everything they could possibly need to turn this ER into a medical highway.

Right away the crowd scattered into controlled disaster: time was limited and there was only so many hands stealing supplies from neighbouring units.

Theo and Miles would have to be transferred to Medicine to free up the beds. But right now they weren't Mistoffelees' concern and he spun on his heel to fetch the field gear from the staff room.

"Mistoffelees is staying."

Both Munkustrap and Mistoffelees whirled around at once. "What?!"

Alonzo had just finished a call and pulled another number from the registry. "We can't have our only paediatrician out of the hospital if we're taking in any critical patients."

"Jemima will be here—"

"Munk, we're the closest trauma centre to the scene. We're going to get the absolute worst of it all, and you want to chance Jemima showing up in time to see them all pull up?"

This wasn't the tabby's fight to win and he shrugged off the patched tom to brush past Mistoffelees and prepare for the ride over. There really was no time to be bickering; even Alonzo was wasting his time and breath. "We're the closest to the scene which means I'm the closest paediatrician. Kittens are hard to assess, I can make sure we get the most critical first. If not we can get a mixed bag."

Munkustrap had returned a moment later while Alonzo was calling in Jennyanydots. He was already dressed up in the windbreaker with 'DOCTOR' sprawled across the back, two yellow medipacks in paw, and an expectant look for the squabbling two. "Is Jemima on her way?"

"Well yes, but—"

"Then Mistoffelees is coming. Let's go."

If looks could kill Alonzo would be out of a job. Though hard pressed to put his foot down even he could see that it was a losing battle. "Bastards. Fine, go!"

Munkustrap carried the medipacks while Mistoffelees slipped on the too-big jacket. The fabric of his shirt caught in the zipper and he snorted to think of how he must look lost in in a tent of fabric. "Do we have any safety pins in those packs?"

"Too many," Munkustrap confirmed.

The ambulance was awaiting them in the bay. "You're the two heading up to North Line road?"

Munkustrap tossed the packs in the back and helped the tux step up onto the rig, pantleg trailing over his sneakers. "Let's go save some kits."


	2. Chapter 2

WHOA! I'm so glad to hear from you all! Just because you were so nice I decided to post the next chapter early. Because I too am nice.

 **JeffnaBoots** : Well I'm glad to be of service! I too felt there was too much left in the last fic and that these two needed another crack at lurve. But yeah Misto will be interacting with a lot of little'uns and there will definitely be... _stress_. Hope you enjoy!  
 **HGP** : HE MUST TAKE PICTURES NOW!  
 **KanaDreemurr** : I'm excited you enjoy the pair; I've been hoping to make them more lighthearted and warm since we have enough *** hitting the fan. (P.S. I am also of the Alonzo variety)  
 **WaitingformyMunkustrap** : I'm flattered to hear that! Hopefully you come to like the pair because I have a lot more lined up for them and it would make me happy to see you enjoying the stories too :)

 _ **PLEASE SEE THE WARNINGS IN CHAPTER ONE IF YOU HAVE NOT ALREADY. BECAUSE THEY APPLY HERE. FO REAL.**_

* * *

Having anticipated a quick ride over to the scene, Mistoffelees made speedy work of pinning back his borrowed red scrubs. Even Munkustrap was hurriedly conscripted to help him tailor the outfit down to size. Needing no further adjustment they sat in silence in the back of the rocky ambulance, crammed together on the small bench beside a fresh gurney.

Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes rolled by. It gave the tux just enough time to go through all his supplies in his pack; counting every IV tube twice, gauze rolls and sealed bandages at least four times. When he wasn't counting he was bouncing his knee and reciting the flow of mass casualty triage in his mind.

Despite his readiness to valiantly leap into the back of the rig and to the rescue of kittens everywhere Munkustrap looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else. Shortly after helping Mistoffelees, the tabby withdrew and pressed himself hard against the wall with his eyes squeezed shut. "Hey, do you guys have any bags or… or buckets back here?"

Stifled giggles drifted through the small window to the front cabin. "There's some garbage bags on the shelf above your head. Don't worry, doc, we're almost there."

"Fantastic."

Mistoffelees had found the bags easily and tore one off the roll and shook it out. "I didn't know you were prone to motion sickness."

"I'm not," came the grunted response, "Usually."

With the duty of a doctor Mistoffelees settled on the bench beside him and reached for his first patient, peeling back the sleeves of Munkustrap's jacket to expose sweaty wrists. "I'm going to need those soon," the tabby warned with a soft groan when he took them each in-paw.

"Pressure points. Should help with the nausea." Thin white fingers pressed and massaged into the soft flesh just below the wrists— keeping a eye out for any trouble to dodge.

"Last night I showed you my bed. Today I show you my breakfast."

Mistoffelees scrunched his nose and massaged harder. "I think we're moving a little quickly. Sex is one thing but this is… a whole new level. But I do like your bed. Very much."

"It's a memory foam," Munkustrap sighed, leaning over to rest his cheek on the tux's head. "Very orthopaedic- I hope it was kind to your shoulder."

Ah yes, his shoulder. A few months before Mistoffelees had an… altercation with a patient and found himself on the business end of a defibrillator. Also a catheter, a ventilator, and morphine—though he had no complaints about the morphine.

The dislocated shoulder had been more of an insult to injury: a gift from gravity when he fell to the ground and no one caught him. The damn thing had a tendency to pop out for the first month and kept him in a brace for too long.

But now it was healed with only a bit of stiffness in the mornings. In its defence Mistoffelees' own bed was just a half-step up from sleeping on a burlap sack of sticks. "Very! Barely had to stretch it out when I got up."

"It seemed pretty loose in the shower," Munkustrap agreed with a soft nuzzle. And Mistoffelees decided to be merciful.

After a few minutes the grip on the bag loosened and the danger had passed; Munkustrap was ready to face the world. It was the ambulance driver who announced their arrival; "Holy shit. Get ready back there, we're gonna hit the ground runnin'!"

Their last moments of peace were numbered; the next time they'd have a moment to hold each other again would be on the other side of whatever was awaiting for them beyond the back doors. Just over the blare of the sirens he could hear the faintest of cries.

Munkustrap's paw was on his cheek. "We're only here for triage. Stay away from the wreck and spend no more than 45 seconds on each patient. Open airways and control bleeding if you can, then move on." Not exactly the pep-talk the tux had in mind.

He returned the favour with some advice of his own: "Remember, the louder kits cry the longer they can last." At that moment he saw Munkustrap recognize the sounds of terror and pain, the impersonal glass wall began to rise in his eyes. It was the safety net that kept the tabby cool and level-headed in a pinch. It was what made him a great doctor.

But that wall wouldn't hold here.

One more time, before they met on the other side, Mistoffelees needed to see the tom he'd fallen asleep with the night before. Just one more smile if Munkustrap could spare it. "And one more thing," cupping a set jaw in both paws he planted a sweet kiss to the corner of Munkustrap's mouth. "Only you can prevent forest fires."

That had been enough to earn him a small smirk and a quick peck on the cheek before the ambulance slowed to a crawl. The pair readied and the instant they felt the full stop they burst out of the doors and into the fray.

Barely two feet on the ground and Mistoffelees almost turned to retreat back to the ambulance. But the incomprehensible monstrosity of it all was a cold shock to his system and held him firmly in place. "Everlasting Cat!"

"Go, go!" Munkustrap and the other technicians blazed past him, medipacks at their sides and the fire of a thousand suns in their feet.

Mistoffelees didn't feel that fire. Hell on Earth was surprisingly cold.

It was in bits and pieces the world reached him: a huddle of kits in a ditch, the stench of leaking gasoline mixing with blood, the sounds of…

What on Earth was that noise? Ripping of metal and kittens' screams and sirens and steam and blood exploding through his ears and—"Get it in gear, doc!"

Right. What had Munkustrap said? Yes, stay away from the wreckage: a full length school bus toppled on its side and clinging to the guardrail for dear life. What lay beyond the barrier he couldn't see, but he thanked the Everlasting Cat for letting it hold.

A few feet ahead of him Munkustrap had already crouched next to a small twisted body in the middle of the road. He checked for vitals. Not ten seconds went by and he tore a black card from his pack and scoped out the next victim.

This was real! This was— "Get moving, Misto!" he growled to himself and jogged over to a crying orange backpack.

"Hi there! I'm doctor Misto, can you tell me your name?"

Seemingly unable to move his head, the small tom-kit glanced up at him through a thick frock of white fur. "I want my mommy!"

"We're going to get you some help so you can see her. Now can you tell me your name?"

"T-Toddy," the kit sniffed.

A quick glance around found no blood. "Okay, Toddy, can you walk?"

"I don't know… I can't find my feet."

"I'm going to check them for you." Reaching down he pulled up the pant leg and pressed a finger to the inside of the kit's ankle. It was cool to the touch, the limb deadened with no pulse. "Do you feel me touching your foot?"

"No… why can't I feel it?!"

"I wasn't pressing very hard. Alright, Toddy, I'm going to give you this red card here to hold onto for a little bit. Another doctor is going to come see you soon and take care of you so you can see your mommy. It's important that you stay very still now, do you understand?"

"D-don't leave me!"

"Someone will come back for you soon, I promise."

Despite Toddy's cries Mistoffelees had to move on; there were just too many for him to focus on only one cat at a time. No more than 45 seconds.

He blinked once, twice, where was the ambulance? Where had Munkustrap gone? The noise, the endless noise was pummelling him from everywhere and everything and it made his head spin.

In med school they were warned about getting disoriented and swept off in the chaos of a mass trauma; he'd heard from other doctors how easy it was to get distracted. Maybe he should have prepared for the day he'd actually be dispatched to a scene.

Bodies. Mistoffelees needed to find bodies.

"Help!" A sound he wouldn't ever get used to. It was a queen, teenaged, and she looked to have a nasty cut on her head. She'd spotted him from a few yards away, waving him over. "My friend can't breathe, she's choking!"

Mistoffelees' next patients would be Soonya and Deidre. Soonya was lying on her side in a puddle of blood. And Deidre was right. She couldn't breathe—at least not very well—and it looked to Mistoffelees like she wouldn't be breathing for much longer.

Still he knelt by her head and gently poked around to find the bleed. "Has she been talking much?"

"No," Deidre snivelled, clutching a bloodied sweater to her chest. "But she was coughing a bit."

Upon inspection the blood was coming from a gaping gash in her side. One he couldn't just wrap up in gauze and move on. Soonya's breaths came in short little pitter-patters and the sharp just in her neck had sealed her fate. "Deidre, I'm going to give you this green card and I want you to wear it around your neck and go stand by that fire truck over there."

"W-what about Soonya?! She has a recital in a week and—"

"We're going to do all we can for her but you need to stay out of the way so we can do that." At the back of his mind the clock was ticking and he'd begun to overstay this patient. Time to move on. "Deidre do you understand me?"

"I… yes, I do."

"Then go please."

She was reluctant to leave—and she had every reason to be. For none of them Mistoffelees blamed her. "D-don't worry, Sunny, I'll see you later at the hospital." For her efforts the doctor waited until she got just far enough to pull out the damning black card and place it in Soonya's palm where the wind wouldn't catch it.

Once he left no one would spare a second thought on her. She would become one with the landscape and live out the remainder of her short life alone on the asphalt.

Though for the rest of his life he would see her brown glassy eyes trail between the card in her hand and the only cat that could have saved her. With a heavy heart he gently pet the still kitten-soft fur between her ears before standing to leave. "I'm sorry."

* * *

Reviews are the fibre-rich foods that feed my ego. Which then poops out chapters. More fibre = more pooping. You know what to do ;)


	3. Chapter 3

I feel like a lot of you know what's going to happen. And you're 53% right. For those of you who don't. Revisit chapter 1 for **WARNINGS** and prepare for gore.

Also I updated my profile. It pretty much says that Munk/Misto is a bit of my default and if you guys are sick of them now (it's going to get worse) then speak now or forever hold your peace. I'm in it to ship it!

* * *

Could the patient walk. Were they breathing. Did they have a pulse.

If one was lucky enough to have two of three then congratulations were in order. They were still alive. Though it wasn't exactly a guarantee, it was something too many here didn't have: a chance. Straightening from a whimpering yellow-tag Munkustrap stretched his back before moving onto the next.

He really couldn't help stealing a glance or two at the wreck whenever he walked by. Though the optimist he tried to be, even Munkustrap couldn't delude himself into thinking there were only three dozen kittens on a full sized bus. From his patients he'd learned they were all on a school trip to the zoo.

If Munkustrap knew anything about kittens it's that they love zoos like rockstars loved hard liquor.

That bus would have been **packed.**

"We need responders to the south side of the crash!" Just beyond where they had originally parked—the ambulance having taken a trip back to the hospital—the scene manager had made herself known. She was an impressively sized queen, military, and he would have been intimidated had he not worked with Jennyanydots every day. "There's a gas leak and victims are stranded."

In that area he spotted Mistoffelees, straightening up and hoisting a sizeable tom-kit across his shoulders. Munkustrap brushed the dampening fur from his eyes and dashed over. "Let me—"

"I'm fine, but there's a Red over there that needs a backboard."

"On it."

Munkustrap had followed Mistoffelees' instruction but he had the damndest time finding the red-tagged patient. There was a black-tagged body that, surely at some point, could have used a backboard… but none now.

"Doc! With the board!" Was that for him? Turning around he found the medic they had rode in with, motioning him over from the bus's emergency exit. Crap. "Bring that over here, we're gonna need it inside." Of course they would.

Before he could escape he was being pulled up and into the school bus—which was a lot harder to navigate than he anticipated. "Watch your step, we've had an EMT put his foot through a window—well don't dance around, get over here!"

While being religiously careful but also heroically careless the pair were able to navigate to the front of the bus where the smallest queen he'd ever guess to be a high school student lie splayed over and half-out a broken window.

All in all she looked scared. Not exceptionally scared but like she would very much like to leave. And who was he to deny her that? The EMT leaned over and have her a pat on the shoulder. "Alrighty, Alverta, let's get you out of here."

Munkustrap reached into his pack for the straps to tie her in when she blinked up at him blearily. "O-okay."

When the tabby squeezed by the technician he jerked back. "What… what the hell is that?" he hissed under his breath.

"Guardrail," he explained simply, taking the board from the tabby and setting it down. "Snapped up and cut through the side of the bus and skewered her like a kabob."

And just like that the urge to vomit returned with a vengeance. It didn't help that the intestines had taken a liking to the metal shard, wrapping around it like sausage links. "We'll just have to wait until someone can come in and cut the rail. I'm not moving her."

"No can do, Doc. The whole place is holding on by our whiskers; machinery would rattle the whole thing and wipe us all out."

"Good to know."

"Not so easy outside your little air conditioned hospital is it?"

Munkustrap's jaw snapped shut so quickly he nearly chipped a tooth. This particular paramedic— whose name he'd forgotten but wanted to say was Baxter—was a regular at Montfort. A regular pain in the you-know-where.

Should he have been less of a diplomatic _adult_ he might have mentioned that the only reason it might have been even remotely challenging was because, for one, he actually had to bend over to treat patients and, two, being a doctor forced him to think about the poor chump on the other end of the ambulance trip who's going to have to find a way to patch the fist-sized crater in this cat's gut.

Often enough Munkustrap himself was that chump. "Everlasting's a mother, ain't she? Now quit gawking and help me pack her up."

Maybe if they—"Lift her slowly now. Follow the spin of the rail."

Plan A went out the window faster than Skimbleshanks on a cross-word. What started off as a loud affair—turned out that cats didn't particularly care to have their innards twisted and pushed about without pain medication—quickly quieted when the bothered wound began to bubble with bright blood. In seconds Alverta slipped into a soundless sleep and went limp in their care.

"Alright, let's run!"

"But she's—"

"It's called a 'Grab-n-Go', Doc. You grab an' you go, now let's go!" Yes, everyone in the damn hospital knew that procedure well. Grab-n-Gos were especially well known for their amazing ability of _never saving anyone_.

But now he had a chance to change that, didn't he? He knew exactly what Alonzo would need—what he himself would need—to save this kit. "Do you have arterial clamps?" he chuffed as they ran back to an awaiting ambulance.

"Clamps?"

Was he speaking Greek in Spanish?! "Yes! Clamps! Do you have any?"

"Yeah, up in the rig."

Together they plopped the board on a stretcher and Munkustrap ran ahead and leaped into the back of the awaiting ambulance. "Get me all your arterial clamps!" The medic inside blinked a moment before turning to a shelf and pulling out a package of what looked to be chip bag clips. It'd do in a pinch.

Heh. A pinch.

Focus, Munkustrap.

When the patient made it they hoisted her up into the ambulance and Munkustrap set to ripping the gauze out. "The artery to her liver is severed; if I clamp it here she'll have a chance of making it to the hospital. Do you have a pen and paper?"

On it he wrote 'Alonzo. Hepatic/L Gastric/Celiac clamp. Straight to OR. Munkustrap' and used one of the remaining clamps to clip it to her shirt. "Make sure you ask for this doctor _specifically_. He'll be the loudest one there. Might be crying. You can't miss him."

Before he landed on the ground the doors were slammed shut behind him and the spray from the ambulance shooting off the shoulder showered him in dirt. Thankfully that queen had a bit more time, though they would have to go faster than that if they wanted to save her.

Wait… where was his medipack?! "Shit!"

* * *

Now that you've all seen a bit of each character... who's your favourite? :)


	4. Chapter 4

Alright! So that was a bit of a wait. I'm in school and have been having health problems but that is NO excuse. I will get on dis pony!

* * *

Flying by the seat of his pants Munkustrap managed to sprint back to the bus in record time. 'Record' being fast enough to not remember how long it took him to get there. He was met with another responder—a firefighter—reaching out to help him up. As if he'd actually go back in that deathtrap!

"My pack's in there. I need it."

"What's on it?"

"Montfort Hospital. It's yellow."

The firefighter disappeared inside while Munkustrap looked around for his next victim. Triage looked about over, the scene was starting to clean up as patients were being carted off; he and Mistoffelees would be needed back at the hospital soon to begin treating some of them. In retrospect, he should have stayed with that queen. In retrospect, he should have made Alonzo go.

"Here we are."

"Thank yo—"

"Hey, that's mine!"

Reaching out from the abyss was a small white paw lost in a rolled-up EMT jacket. Mistoffelees! So much for staying away from the wreck. Their eyes met over the confused firefighter, who still had a precarious hold on the duffel bag. "Give me that!" the tux grumbled finally, tugging the bag from the puzzled doorman.

Looked like he was going back inside.

Munkustrap let himself be pulled into the bus and crawled over the seats after Mistoffelees. "This one slipped under the seat next to him when the bus tipped. I'm not done assessing him but it seems his leg took most of the damage. Now he's pinned and they can't get any machinery in here yet to cut him free."

Did Mistoffelees know why they weren't able to get the machinery in here? Did he have a clue as to what that groaning sound meant? It never occurred to Munkustrap before now to check how far down the drop would be should the guardrail fail. On second thought it might be best that he didn't know.

And he most definitely didn't want Mistoffelees anywhere near this place. A little too roughly he grabbed the tux's arm and pulled him in close, careful to keep his voice low so that the patient wouldn't hear. If the bus was to tip over they'd be forced to leave him behind. "Misto you have to get off this bus _right now_."

"I have a patient, Munk, I can't just leave him behind."

"I'll take over. I just need you to go."

It was almost as if he'd reached out and struck Mistoffelees across the face; "There are cats in here that need my help!"

"There are even more cats out _there_ that need your help too. We're here for triage—"

"Triage is over, Munk, we have to start treating." And that was exactly what he was prepared to do. Grabbing the patient's arm, which had been badly scraped up but otherwise fine, he began the process of setting up an IV.

"Then he's still a Yellow and you need to be taking care of Red. Get out. That's an order."

Bright blue eyes gouged him in the iota of a second the tux sacrificed to shoot him a seething glare. "An order from whom, exactly?"

Munkustrap straightened his back. "Your supervising physician."

"In case you haven't noticed, we're not in the hospital anymore."

"And in case _you_ haven't noticed, you're not trained to be here; you're a doctor, not a firefighter."

They hadn't been quiet, and that was Munkustrap's only regret. The patient, a pimple-faced tomkit of no more than fifteen, whimpered softly at the growing tension between cats that were supposed to be calm. Cats he'd expected to be helping him and not bickering over semantics.

But they wouldn't be arguing if Mistoffelees just listened to him. "Am... am I going to die?"

Mistoffelees nudged Munkustrap over so that he could take off his own jacket and wrap it around the kit's shoulders. "No no, you're going to be okay. Just relax now."

"Misto, please, I'm begging you!" Munkustrap tried again, gripping the tux's forearm as he reached for the IV bag. "I'm not going to stand by and watch you get hurt again—"

"Then don't."

It was Munkustrap's turn to be taken aback. While he didn't want to they both knew Munkustrap would; he'd watch the whole thing go down in flames and then jump right in. Only Mistoffelees didn't know how badly Munkustrap as willing to get burned for him.

"M-my chest hurts," the patient complained. Munkustrap refused to learn his name, though he was sure Mistoffelees had it tattooed to the backs of his eyes now.

Cautiously Munkustrap reached for the pack, pulling out the stethoscope and the pulse oximeter, clamping the latter onto the cat's ear. "I'm going to need you to take deep breaths while I listen."

"It's too tight!"

"As deep as you can then." They were wasting time. They were wasting resources. "I hear some edema."

"W-what does that mean?"

"Not something you need to worry about right now, Cassius," Mistoffelees reassured, gently squeezing the IV bag above his head. "Have you ever gotten a blister when you get new shoes that don't fit right? It's like that, but instead of a shoe you're having trouble fitting under here."

"I guess that makes sen—"

"Everybody hold!"

It started with a small tremble, a shiver in the lining of the bus that shook the tabby to the core. "It's moving," Mistoffelees whispered, paws shaking as he gripped Munkustrap's shoulder.

They should have stayed home in bed. He wished he was cramming pancakes down his throat and taking too hot showers. Why did this morning have to end?!

A snap as loud as thunder came from the front of the bus and for a sickening moment all was still.

Then they went for a little field trip of their own.

With the demonic shriek of metal on pavement the bus jerked forward, sliding off the soft shoulder to the mystery cliff down below. Cassius was caught in place, but both Munkustrap and Mistoffelees slammed hard to the left as the floor pulled out from under them.

They both fell into the hollow curve of the bus's roof, finding each other as backpacks and lunchboxes and shoes pelted them from all angles. Crushing the tux to his chest he buried his face in the safe space in the curve of his neck. Mistoffelees sobbed hard into his ear; "I'm sorry!"

"I love you!" Munkustrap yelped, back slamming against the roof as the deathtrap jumped.

There was a low grinding rumble and the bus settled...at least for the time being.

"Misto? Doctor? Anyone!?" It was the patient, calling out from beyond a layer of jackets and bags. The others inside began to call out, some were crying. Mistoffelees squirmed against him and it was Munkustrap who pushed aside the heavier bags.

When they looked back to where he'd been pinned beneath the seat he was... gone?! "Cassius? Where'd— Cassius!"

"I'm...over here." Whirling around they found the teen dangling from the overhead rack. He was missing a foot and bleeding fast. Well, Munkustrap couldn't claim to be anymore efficient. Everlasting _was_ a mother.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" Munkustrap growled, lunging for the tomkit. Cassius seemed more than agreeable with the idea and clung to Munkustrap's shoulders as he was carried to the back of the bus.

At the end of the bus the firefighter from before was dazedly shoving the door open with the help of a few more in uniform pulling from the other side. Giant gloved paws grappled Cassius from him, rushing him off to the triage to ready for transport.

Right now Munkustrap felt like he'd need a look-over himself.

Wait...

"Mistoffelees?!" Where had he— the tux was right behind him! "Misto!"

"There he is, doc!" The firefighter pointed to a writhing mess in red scrubs not too far from where Munkustrap had left him. Despite helping him, the paw on his shoulder was definitely pulling him in the wrong direction. "You have to get out of here, it won't hold."

"I-I can't just leave him behind!" Munkustrap yelled, struggling even harder when Mistoffelees sat up and spotted him with wide watery eyes. Right away he noticed the awkward jut of the tux's shoulder: it had jumped out of place. Mistoffelees was slow to recover from the initial shocking pain.

Shrugging off the firefighter he clamoured over the bags and the seats and the bodies—seemingly simple tasks when he thought bringing Cassius to the exit was the end of their extended unwelcome. "I need help over here!" another EMT called from a few feet behind Mistoffelees.

"There's no time, we have to grab and get the hell out!" called another. In his pinned-back red scrubs Mistoffelees shuffled closer on his knees; with a dislocated arm his shoulder wouldn't be able to support the weight so he'd need the other arm to hold onto it. It didn't leave him with many options for navigating the rough environment.

A little over halfway there the bus groaned again. Tears began to fall from Mistoffelees' eyes in earnest, but Munkustrap wouldn't let them wash his resolve. "Munk, go back! Get out!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Munkustrap chuckled shakily, stepping over a tangled up body. It was hard, to be both careful and frantic. "Skimbleshanks will have my hide if I leave you here."

Mistoffelees was not in the mood for hollow humour. "You'll die. Go. GO!" From behind the one EMT who had spoken up earlier left his patient and bolted at the first grating scrape on the gravel shoulder. Or cliff. Shoulder sounded better. Perhaps not seeing Mistoffelees, he knocked into the small cat on his way by.

The groaning got louder. The floor began to slip.

And he didn't think it was going to stop this time.

While the tux howled in pain at the passing bump of the EMT's hip, Munkustrap took the slipping opportunity to reach out and snag the tux around the waist. With both arms snaked around the tux he hoisted the small cat against him and dashed for the exit.

A little disclaimer: Munkustrap wasn't the most athletic cat growing up. He did a little swimming back in high school, but aside from that he was as uncoordinated and inactive as they came. Chess club and nap squad were more at his level. That being said, he was currently the Michael Phelps of leaping over Frozen backpacks and blazing forward on what felt like a reverse treadmill.

His only regret was not taking the high jump in gym class more serious; the exit wasn't exactly level nor was it vertical. And only one of them could go through first. At the end the firefighter from before awaited them from the outside.

In his arms, Mistoffelees retched hard from the pain of being jostled. Surely later he would be thankful, but right now he was screaming all the way, writhing ineffectively as Munkustrap lifted him up and over the exit to the firefighter—who was suddenly growing very distant.

"MUNKUSTRAP NO!"

Behind him, he heard the screams of the few trapped victims left in the bus. Left to die. He was going to join them.

And Mistoffelees was going to watch him die.

Everlasting sure was a motherfucker.

* * *

Is this... a literal cliffhanger? Hmmmm...


End file.
